And thus I take my leave of the world
by Linger1536
Summary: Reincarnation story. "I loved you." His hands tightened around Freya's waist. She saw his eyes close as he lost himself in a memory. "Please after everything we've been to each other … after everything we were! Please." "Enough!" She had loved this man once but she'd learned from her previous mistakes. The number one rule: Don't trust Henry.
1. Chapter 1

"Seduced by witchcraft!" she spat at him, her eyes ablaze with hatred. "I could not bear any male children?" She shook her head at him in disgust as her long red hair -so much like the daughter's she once had- whipped around her shoulders.

"You did that. Not me, never me! Did you think I wouldn't be emotional distressed by knowing that my husband was whoring around? I lost those children because of you and your actions."

Her brown eyes settled on his unmoving form. She took in the strong handsome features, his green eyes and ironically the dark hair -the same colour she'd once had- the fates had given him. She had loved this man once. Loved him with her whole heart but now she hated him with a burning fire. Yes, she knew that she had been no saint but she had never gone as far as him and she'd learned from her previous mistakes.

The number one rule: Don't trust Henry

**This is an introduction to a story I will start writing, it is a reincarnation story of Anne and Henry. I will base it on the TV-show The Tudors as well as on historical facts (that's the reason as to why Henry had red hair). I have not watched to whole show so feel free to tell me if you think there is any important part of the show I should include in this story. Since I haven't done much study on Anne and Henry (but I will do more) you can come with suggestion on what I should put into the story that have with real facts to do. **

**I'm all open for suggestions!=)**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm not from England but I've been trying to look up some places (you'll see which I'm talking about later on) and I'm sorry if those places aren't the right ones.**

_She was Anne again. One glance at the beautiful dress she was in confirmed it. She did not spare the dress a glance though instead her dark eyes were focused on the man with the same outdated clothing as herself. Before she knew it she was on her feet, walking forward. She let out a sigh of longing just as she reached him, grasping his cheeks in her hands as they kissed. She'd never felt so loved before as she did in his arms while he twirled her around._

Freya groaned as the vision ended. She wished they would stop coming but she had no such luck. She'd had the visions for as long as she could remember. Her mother had laughed it off when she was younger by saying that Freya had a wild imagination. But no child that age would be able to conjure thoughts of two people in such a passionate embrace. She had learned her lesson not to talk of her visions when she was nine and had told her aunt Elisa about the beautiful red haired man who would shower her body with kisses and give her pleasure. Of course back then she had not known what the man and woman were doing but by the reaction she got from her aunt she learned to not speak of it.

One thing she could not stop herself from asking when she was younger was: "Where is Elizabeth?"

Her mother and aunt believed she talked about an imaginary-friend and thought nothing of it. They thought that she would grow out of the phrase, but when she only became more insistent to know of Elizabeth's whereabouts they eventually told her to stop asking.

By the time she turned thirteen the nightmares began. They were horrid dreams of lifeless bodies with their heads chopped off; open eyes staring blankly at her, their expression a mask of terror. She knew that some of these people had been dear to her and it broke her heart seeing them dead. The worst part of the dreams was watching her other self getting down on her knees; praying before the sword swung at her neck. At first she hadn't been able to understand why the beautiful man … Henry had not been there at her side, stopping the ordeal. Then other dreams began haunting her during the night and as visions during the day. She saw Anne miscarriage, the fights with Henry, Anne crying herself to sleep in fear of Jane Seymour stealing the king from her, Anne pleading with Henry for one more chance and than she saw her life end. By this time Freya was old enough to understand what was going on … she was the reincarnation of Anne Boleyn.

She had looked up on all the information she could find about Anne and Henry which confirmed most of the things she'd seen in her visions. By then the love she had felt for the man in her visions had turned to hatred. The bastard had had her executed despite her innocence! He had believed the whispers of the court instead of her. The worst part of it all was that even after five years of hating Henry for what he had done, she couldn't help but to long for him after her pleasant visions and she resented that.

"Are you working during the summer?" Violet asked as she watched Freya braid her long red hair to the side, letting some strands hang loose to frame her pale face.

Freya scrunched her nose at the thought of working for her aunt. "I'll be working in my aunt's restaurant. I bet I'll be stuck with the cleaning ," she said as her dark eyes eyed the necklace lying on her desk but instead of putting it on she sighed. Ever since she'd been little she had screamed bloody murder whenever someone tried to put a scarf or a necklace on her.

Violet let out a bubbling laugh. "The Queen working as a maid?" Her blue eyes were twinkling with amusement.

Freya rolled her eyes at her. "How many times will I have to tell you to stop teasing me for something I said when I was little?"

Violet raised a blond eyebrow at her as she ran a hand through her bobbed haircut. "Thirteen is not that little," she stated.

Freya sighed and threw herself down on the bed next to her. She knew that she shouldn't have mentioned her visions to Violet but it wasn't something she'd thought about when they were eight. When they were thirteen Violet had found her research on Anne and put two and two together.

"I don't suppose you will ever let it drop?" she asked Violet hopefully but she already knew the answer.

"Of course not!" Violet sniggered. "You're so easy to provoke and unfortunately for you it amuses me."

"Great," Freya mumbled sourly. This of course only caused Violet to laugh harder.

"Vi?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"If it pleases you, Your Majesty."

That was when one of the pillows hit Violet hard in the face. Violet picked it up and threw it back to Freya before rolling over so that she was facing her.

"What time are you leaving?" she asked.

Freya threw a glance at the clock which was hanging on her light blue wall. "In an hour."

Violet was quiet for awhile studying her friends knee-length black dress matched with a black coat. "Have you thought about not going?" She asked tentatively.

Freya shook her head. "No. It's the 24th of March I cannot not go," she explained.

Violet sighed as she sat up. "What good will it do you?"

It was Freya's turn to sigh. Despite how many times she had explained her reasons to Violet she still thought it was a bad idea. "I want to pay my respects."

"She's been dead for over four hundred years!" Violet exclaimed.

Freya shot her a glare. "You don't think I know that?" She asked annoyed.

"It doesn't seem like it," Violet huffed. "She's not your daughter any longer. You're not Anne and she is not the little girl you keep seeing in your visions."

"You just don't get it," said Freya as she stood up and opened the door to her bedroom that led out to the rest of the two bedroom apartment she shared with her mother in Eton riverside, Windsor. "You can let yourself out," she told Violet as she fled from the apartment not caring that her train didn't leave for another hour.

* * *

><p>Freya was pleasantly surprised to see that there was only three others gathered around the tomb. She supposed it was because she was there at opening hours. The effigy looked nothing like the sweet little girl Freya remembered but then again Anne had never had the fortunate to watch her daughter grow up and become the strong and powerful woman resting in this room. She felt her throat constrict as she drank in the features of the stone-woman. She hated that she had not been able to see her grow up.<p>

"_Henry, please. For the love you bear our child, for the love of Elizabeth-"_

"_You lied to me!"_

"_... have mercy!"_

"_You've always lied to me!"_

"_No!"_

She hated Henry for what he had done. It was always the same vision, every year she came she saw it. It was if the memory was taunting her, reminding her of how she had not been there for Elizabeth.

"I'm so sorry Elizabeth," she said it every time she came. It didn't give her any completion but to not say it would be more painful.

The hairs on her neck stood up and her back became stiff as she felt someone's eyes on her. She unwillingly tore her eyes away from the marble face and slowly turned around, hoping that no one of the rooms other occupants had heard her apology. Her eyes landed on a handsome man a few years older than her. He had broad shoulders, a well sculpted face as well as a lean but defined body but nothing of that held her attention. Her eyes were focused on his slightly curly, dark brown hair; a colour she was very familiar with.

"You look like …" he began saying in a dark, firm voice as he stared at her with mesmerized emerald green eyes, "like E-" Freya met his eyes with her dark ones. "Anne," came his surprised voice.

"_Who are you?" he asked in a low voice._

"_Anne Boleyn."_

* * *

><p>"<em>Come here," he said as his hand gently stroked her hair.<em>

_She blinked her eyes several eyes in an attempt to hold her emotions back. "Do you still have passion for me?" she asked in a whisper. _

"_I do, sweetheart," he whispered back, "I love you."_

_Relief washed over her but she knew it wouldn't last for long._

* * *

><p><em>She fell back against the door at the sight of that wench on his knee. "Oh my God." They broke away from each other at the sound of her voice. <em>

_"Oh my God!" Shock washed over her whole being, how could he?! "Oh my God, what is this? What is this!" She leaned forward, still supporting herself on the doorway._

_She knew this wasn't good for her or the baby but she wasn't able to get her bearings under control. Instead of walking out of the room which she should have she threw the door closed and took a menacing step forward. She was spitting out words of pure hatred at them, not caring if it angered the King. _

"_Why are you doing this?" she asked in a desperate voice as she leaned over the table. "Why did you have to do this!"_

_She hit him with all the strength she could manage in that moment, before she began backing away from him, holding a hand up as if to stop his advancing form. She felt a sharp pain in her lower stomach and her hand immediately flew to it as she let out a shocked sound of pain. _

"_Please!_

"_No, no, no, no, no!"_

_His arms were around her, holding her still as he ordered her to stop while she let out a heartbroken sob. _

Freya shook her head as she tried to rid her head of the visions but it only caused her to become light-headed. She swayed slightly just as his hand reached out and caught her by the arm, steadying her. If it had been anyone else doing it she would have known it had been out of concern but it was different with him. He wasn't concerned for her in the slightest if he had been he wouldn't have had her beheaded.

"Get your hands off of me," she warned through gritted teeth as her dark eyes flashed with anger.

He didn't let go off of her instead his grip tightened. She knew that he was showing her he had the power but she wasn't about to give it to him like an obedient dog.

She wrenched her arm free from his grasp and held her chin high as she challenged him with her eyes. "Don't you ever dare to touch me," she warned him before turning around.

She took several steps away from him before she paused and took one last glance of Elizabeth's stone face before leaving, not sparing him a glance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Here are some things I want to make clear: Anne is not a redhead and I never said she was, she's a brunette but Freya is a redhead. Freya's hair is just like Elizabeth's but she have the same eyes as Anne. The reincarnated Henry's eyes are green and he have the same hair colour Anne had. Both of Henry's sisters may be in this story but I'm not sure yet.**

His eyes followed her as she left. At first when he had seen her he'd thought she was Elizabeth with the long, red hair and the paleness of her skin but then her eyes gave her away. Those dark eyes were the same as before and there was no mistaking them. His lips curved upwards as he watched her leave, she held herself in the same proud way as always. He had been wondering which one of his former wives he would see first but the thought of seeing her had not crossed his mind often but now when he had seen her he couldn't stop the visions from coming.

"_It is not all my fault," he stopped as her voice reached him. "You have no one to blame but yourself for this. I was distressed to see you with that wench," she spat out the word wench as if it was poison on her tongue, "Jane Seymour!" His mask slipped away and his expression portrayed the grief and anger he was feeling. "Because the love I bear you is so great! It broke my heart to see you loved others."_

He shook his head as his eyesight cleared, it had been her fault as well. If she had not become so worked up about something that was not of such importance then she wouldn't have lost the child. He bowed his head slightly in Elizabeth's direction while murmuring her name lowly before leaving.

"_Henry, please. For the love you bear our child, for the love of Elizabeth-"_

"_You lied to me!"_

"_... have mercy!"_

"_You've always lied to me!"_

"_No!"_

She had though. She made him believe that she was a virgin, she'd played him for her own benefit. He caught sight of a flash of red in the middle of the people milling around and suddenly he was curious to know how much she knew. He took large strides in her direction, hoping to catch her before she slipped away. Luckily for him she had stopped to answer some woman's question and he used it to his advantage.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," he said, giving the old woman she'd been speaking to a charming smile, "but I need to speak with Anne," by the way her eyes flashed at the mention of her former name he knew that he had managed to provoke her.

"Is it urgent _Henry_? I'm in the middle of something here," she said while gesturing with her hands between herself and the woman, "but then again you were never one to take other peoples' importances to consideration."

The old woman who had been watching the exchange smiled at them as her face lit up. "Did you know that you have the same names as Henry the eight and Anne Boleyn?" she asked them excited.

He couldn't help but to quirk a brow at Anne as he asked the woman; "Really?"

"Oh yes. They were the parents of Queen Elizabeth but unfortunately their story didn't have a happy ending," she explained. "Henry had Anne executed for adultery," she shook her head sadly, "what a foolish girl."

"Excuse me?" Anne asked, her cheeks flushed with what he could only assume was anger.

"I only meant that she was very stupid to believe that she could get away with having an affair under the king's nose. Who knows maybe Elizabeth wasn't Henry's after all with the way that Boleyn girl whored around," said the woman as she studied Anne up and down. "In fact you remind me of Elizabeth with that hair."

He watched as Anne took a step closer to the woman with a dangerous glint in her eyes that he recognised too well.

"Obviously you've got your facts mixed up," she said in a calm collected voice, "but don't worry it happens a lot to people whom listen to gossip instead of seeing the logic," she gave the woman a cold smile. "Just to set it straight, Anne did not cheat on Henry. She was faithful to him into the very end, unfortunately I can't say the same for Henry. He wanted her gone. When she failed to produce a male heir he decided to get rid of her so he could continue to wench around with Jane Seymour without having Anne in the way," she threw him a disgusted glance. "He blamed everything on Anne when it was his fault as well if not even more. As for Elizabeth it is obvious she was Henry's daughter one look at her hair and pale skin would confirm it," with that said she turned around and left them standing there, his eyes following her.

"Who would have thought," the woman mused, "that you of all people would find her."

His green eyes settled on the woman's face, which had changed expression from the overly friendly one she had worn earlier to a solemn one.

"Do not say a word of this to anyone," he warned. "I'll make you suffer if you open your mouth about this."

"Yes, Your Majesty," he sneered at her knowing that she was mocking him. "She remembers," she stated.

He sighed as he ran his hand through his dark hair. "Yes," he wasn't about to let her know more than that.

"How much?"

"I don't know," It was obvious she remembered everything or almost everything but he wasn't about to tell the woman that. They were not honest with him as to why they wanted to find Anne so he would not be completely honest with them. "If you know what's best for you, you will not tell anyone," he said with menace.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Would you really threaten me?"

"Yes."

She smiled as if she did not believe him. "Very well I will not tell them, but know this you won't be able to keep her a secret for long."

"Why is she of such importance?" he asked annoyed. He didn't understand why they wanted to find her and not some of his more pleasant wives.

The woman laughed. "Oh I think you have some idea. You may not like her but there is no denying the passion the two of you share and last time you let that passion tear you apart. May I ask what good that did? I think the execution of her was the beginning of Henry the tyrant."

**I know it's short but I'll make the next one longer it might just take some more time to update.**

**Thanks for reading!=)**


	4. Chapter 4

_Memories and dreams __are written in italic _while _**letters are written in bold letters and italic.**_

She had never liked Anne. In fact she had despised Anne with her whole being until her death and it had not changed since then. Her feelings towards Anne would have been different if Anne had not weaseled her way to the throne where she had no right to be. Things weren't different though and she did not care for Anne in the slightest which was why she was standing in the middle of a large room watching with delighted eyes as the others in the room bowed their heads at her.

"I assume you've brought us news," asked an elderly man, Mr Mills as he strode forward taking her hand in his and giving it a light kiss.

"I have."

She watched as his face broke out into a delighted smile. She supposed he would have been handsome when he was younger but now all she could see was an old slightly scrawny man with balding grey hair as well as a grey beard, but who was she to judge? She was not the beauty she had once been, age had deprived her of that.

Mr Mills let out a small chuckle, "Well don't leave us hanging."

Her crystal blue eyes took in the various faces watching her with expectation. "I almost thought she was Elizabeth," she said deciding to have some fun with them. She smirked at the gasps that could be heard from around the room. "She looks so much like her except from a few small differences in the face but then we all change as we come back so I thought maybe … it is her," she paused, letting her words sink in before continuing. "Then I realised it can't be not after what you told me. It was the eyes that made me realise who she was. They always say that they are like dark hooks for the soul which I suppose they are," she stopped talking, allowing them to figure out who she was talking about.

"No," someone whispered in disbelief.

"Is it really her?"

"Where did you find her?"

"I can't believe it!"

"Is she young?"

The questions continued to come until Mr Mills raised his hand to silence them.

"Are you certain it's her?" he asked.

She smirked at him. "I may not be as young as I once was but I would recognise her anywhere and if Henry was able to recognise her then I'm quite sure I'm right about her identity."

"He met her?"

She nodded. "Oh yes. I can't say that she was delighted to see him which is to be expected."

"This is not good," Mr Mills rubbed his fingers against his temples. "Why has he not told us this?"

"That is simple," she answered him, "he doesn't want you to find out about her yet because he does not trust you."

He nodded, confirming that he understood. "How old do you suppose she is?" this was a question all of the people in the room had been worried about, she could not be too old.

"A couple of years younger than him," a sigh of relief escaped Mr Mills lips, "I'd say around eighteen."

He nodded again. "Good. This is good, she's only three years younger than him," a plan was forming in his mind. "None of you mention a word to him about this meeting," he told the rooms occupants in a stern voice. "We'll let him believe that he and Renae are the only ones to know of her existence for now. How did he act towards her?" He asked Renae.

Renae shrugged. "Curious, superior, the usual Henry I suppose," was her reply before she turned to leave.

"Just one more thing," came his voice, "where did you see her?"

"Outside Westminster Abbey earlier today," they all knew what day it was, "it is my belief that she's been going there for quite some time now at this particular date," with those words said she left the room.

Henry would be furious with her if he found out what she had done but he did not have the same power as he once had which was why she wasn't too worried at the moment. If anyone should be worried about their welfare it should be Anne.

* * *

><p>"<em>Don't you know I can drag you down as quickly as I raised you!"<em>

Freya clasped her hands over her ears in an attempt to block out to words that was repeating over and over in her head. He haunted her even in her dreams and she was tired of it but she supposed some of it was her own fault, she shouldn't be reading Love Letters of Henry VIII to Anne Boleyn. She was just reopening old wounds by reading it and the nightmares had returned.

There was a knock on the door to her room. "Freya, are you up?" her mum's face peeked inside from the spring in the doorway. "You'll have to hurry if you don't want to be late for work."

Freya groaned, she did not look forward to be stuck in her aunt's restaurant for the better part of the day. Unfortunately for Freya it was the only place that would hire her at the moment so she had no other choice than to get up and get ready. She hated working for her aunt and it didn't exactly help that she would be working there during the summer as well.

"You won't have time to eat anything before you leave," her mum informed her as she entered the kitchen.

Freya shrugged as she slipped the book that had caused her so much restless nights into her purse. "It's fine," she said as she watched her mum gather her brown hair into a tight bun.

Her mum was a plump woman with a kind heart-shaped face as well as big doe eyes, the complete opposite of her aunt. Freya's aunt was tall with a skinny body, she had short sandy blonde hair, a long face and her brown eyes were always cold. Much to Freya's dismay many relatives commented that she had inherited her aunts height and grace.

"I probably won't be home until tonight," she informed her mum before she grabbed a jacket and was out the door.

_**There came to me suddenly in the night the most afflicting news that could have arrived. The first, to hear of the sickness of my mistress, whom I esteem more than all the world, and whose health I desire as I do my own, so that I would gladly bear half your illness to make you well.**_

Freya snorted at the book she was holding in her hands. Of course he would only "bear" half of her illness to make her well, God forbid if he had borne her illness instead of her. This was nothing new to Freya though she knew Henry was selfish and he would never be able to sacrifice his life for someone else.

"Why on earth are you reading that piece of shit, Freya?" asked Violet who had been leaning against the counter top watching her friend pull faces at the book in her hands.

Freya's dark brown eyes locked with Violets hazel ones as she shrugged her shoulders. "It's interesting," she said as her eyes returned to the book, her lips formed a small smirk as read the last lines of the letter, " besides it amuses me."

Violet who could not see the amusement in the situation sighed. "Why?"

Freya shrugged her shoulders once more. "It's just the way he formulates himself," she explained. "Written by that secretary, who is, and for ever will be, your loyal and most assured Servant," she read the ending of the letter aloud in a dark voice. "It's almost believable that he loved Anne and not just wanted to let out his lusty desires," she gave a short laugh confirming Violet's belief that she was not amused by Henry's words.

Violet did not know why Freya was acting like this but she had a suspicion that something must have happened when she went to Elizabeth's tomb. Freya had never been interested in reading anything that Henry had written to Anne before, so what had changed?

"I still don't understand why you're reading that," Violet finally said, "don't you remember it?"

Freya put the book down on the counter top while she pushed some strands of her hair away from her face. "I don't remember everything, some bits are more blurry than others," she explained.

Violet opened her mouth to say something but before she could Freya's aunt came bustling out from the kitchen. Her eyes settled on them as she watched them thoughtful for awhile.

"Freya you're free to go," she said. "We've only had six customers and I don't think there will be many more today."

Freya's face lit up in delight as she grabbed the book and moved away from the counter. "Great! I'll see you tomorrow," she was out the door before Violet or her aunt had any time to react.

"Bye, Mrs Lowell," said Violet before running after her friend.

Freya was leaning against the building while she waited for her. "So where do you want to go?" she asked.

Violet shrugged. "Dunno. Do you want to grab something to eat?"

Freya shook her head and pushed herself away from the wall. "No, I grabbed a slice of pizza earlier during work," she said while she began walking down the pavement, "but I've got an idea where we can go," she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Violet groaned. "I'm not going to like it am I?" she asked.

Freya laughed. "Nope, not one bit."

* * *

><p>"You've got to be kidding me," Violet turned to face Freya. "Please tell me you aren't serious."<p>

Freya smiled but didn't reach her eyes. "If I weren't serious we wouldn't be here," she explained.

Violet just gaped at her, something was defiantly wrong. "Why now Freya? You've never wanted to come here before."

Freya glanced at her friend as began walking, her eyes did not take in the beautiful surroundings instead they were focused on the black plaque in the middle of the marble floor. She wasn't sure why she was doing this. If she was truthful to herself she did not want to be there which was the reason she was there; she wanted to confront her fears. She stopped in front of the plaque staring down at it with thoughtful eyes, he was down there; Henry.

"I thought," she said in a low voice so that no one other than Violet would hear her, "that it would be easier if I came here. I thought I would feel better by knowing that his remains is down there next to his beloved whore," she spat the last words out with disgust as she clenched and unclenched her hands.

The thing was she wasn't reassured by knowing that he was lying below her feet when she had seen him a few weeks ago. No she wasn't reassured at all by seeing his grave when he was not in there any longer, all there were was the skeleton of the man who had been a tyrant.

**Jane Seymour Queen of King Henry VIII **

– 1537 –

Freya couldn't stop the anger that rouse up inside her at the sight of _her_ name. She hated that Henry had favoured the Seymour bitch because she gave him a son, a son that did not reach his adulthood. She had given him an extraordinary daughter but it did not matter how clever, beautiful and talented Elizabeth had been because she had not been a son. If Jane had not given him a son then she would not be his most "beloved" wife, he would have discarded her just like he had done to those before her which would have happened even if she had survived, he would have taken a new mistress. Henry did not know the meaning of the world fateful and he'd had the nerve to accuse Anne of adultery. All Henry ever cared for was the chase. There was a light brush to her arm causing Freya to look up from her brooding.

"What's going on, Freya?" Violet asked concerned.

Freya sighed, she did not want to tell Violet about Henry being back as well. "Nothing, I was just thinking."

Violet studied her closely for awhile and Freya found it hard to meet her eyes. She could lie easily to everyone except from Violet and therefore she would rather avoid meeting her probing gaze.

"He's back as well isn't he?" she asked.

The only response she got was a sharp nod.

He watched as she left the chapel with a short, blonde girl in tow. It had been pure luck that he had found her here to begin with. He had consider going to The Tower but then he figured that she would probably keep her distance from there which was why he had been going to every place she had a connection to. He couldn't hide his surprise at seeing here in Windsor, he'd thought that she would like to be somewhere less connected to him. But as he trailed the girls back to an apartment he realised that she lived in Windsor and his lips curled into a smirk at the irony.

* * *

><p>Sometimes the memories managed to break through her blockade and she would find herself waking up in cold sweat. She did not want to be remembered of the evil she had done, wasn't it enough that Henry and Elizabeth haunted her? She knew that she had been cruel to many especially Mary but back then things were different, she'd had to secure her spot and Mary had been a threat. The question was always there though; what if she had been kinder to Mary? Would she have accepted her as a queen and spared many of the trouble that had been caused? She always tried to console herself with that Mary had become Bloody Mary, but then again the thought was there whispering; what if she had done something different when it came to Mary? What if she had not been so cruel, would things have changed? Was she to blame for what Mary became? Freya felt as if she was and there was nothing she could do about it because it had happened hundred of years ago. She supposed this was why she came back to learn from her previous mistakes but it was hard sometimes, she'd had her reasons and she stood by them. Other times it was easy to admit when she had been wrong and feel remorse for it.<p>

She rolled over in her bed and stared out at the dark night sky through the springs in her curtains. How many more were back? If she and Henry was back there was a big possibility that others were as well, the question was who? She doubted that Elizabeth was among those who were , Elizabeth had lived a long and fulfilling life there was no reason for her to return. Mary on the other hand might have returned along with others whom had hated Anne. A memory of George's smiling face flashed before her eyes and she sat up straight causing her hair to fall in tousled strands to her waist, was he back? She wanted to know but she had no one to ask. If she contacted Henry – which she had no idea how to – she would probably end up getting burned by the flame. Then again when had she ever said no to a challenge? Look where it got me last time, she thought sourly as she flopped back down against her pillows.

**Funny fact: I chose the name Renae because it means reborn.**

**Thanks for reading!=)**


	5. Chapter 5

"Tell me again." Lyanna's big brown eyes looked up expectantly at Freya.

Freya smiled as she bent down and brushed some dirty blonde curls away from her cousin's face. "Again?" She asked in a light voice. "I'd thought you would have tired of it."

"No!" Her cousin exclaimed.

Freya couldn't help but laugh as she picked up the six year old, swinging her around in the air which earned her shouts of delight before for she sat her down on a park bench.

"I don't think it is a good story to tell you," Freya said honestly.

"Why?" Lyanna scrunched up her nose in confusion. "I like it."

It was Freya's turn to ask why because she could honestly not understand how such a story could appeal to a six year old instead of some of the more original fairy tales.

"'Cause it's sad."

Freya raised an eyebrow in amusement at her cousin. "You like it because it's sad?"

Lyanna nodded eagerly causing Freya to laugh. "You are one special girl, Ly."

"Please Freya," Lyanna begged. "I promise I won't tell mum you told me the story."

"Fine," said Freya sighing, "but just this once."

Lyanna beamed up at her. "Yes, I promise!" Freya knew it was a promise she would not be able to keep.

"Once a very long time ago there was woman named Catherine of Aragon. She was married to a very powerful man named Henry Tudor. Henry was no ordinary man … he was the king of England," Freya whispered the last words in an excited voice as she leaned closer to Lyanna. "Together Henry and Catherine had a daughter; Mary. Mary grew up to become a very strong and independent woman, sadly she was very lonely."

"'Cause her daddy left her?" Lyanna asked.

Freya nodded as she stroked a hand through Lyanna's hair. "Yes but before that happened there was another woman named Anne. She was one of many that had caught the king's eye, you understand he wasn't faithful to his wife. He was with other women and Anne was one of them. Anne's father put her in the king's way to make sure he fell in love with her which he did and she with him."

It was at this point the happy ending was supposed to come but it didn't exist which Lyanna knew yet she asked every time;

"And they lived happily ever after?"

Freya gave her a small smile as she shook her head. "No, you see the king was still married to Catherine but when she didn't give him a son which Anne promised him Henry ended his marriage with Catherine and banished her and Mary from court. Anne had a part in it as well, she wanted both of them gone because it would secure her place with the king and she did not care about what happened to Mary or Catherine. Henry and Anne married and were very happy but the people did not accept Anne as their new Queen. When Anne gave birth she did not give Henry the son he wanted instead she gave him a daughter, do you know what her name was?"

"Yes, Elizabeth." Said Lyanna proudly.

"That's right." Freya smiled at her cousin. "Elizabeth was a very beautiful and talented girl, she became one of the most famous queen's in history. Sadly Elizabeth wasn't enough for Henry he wanted a son and when Anne could not give him that he became angry with her and began to fall in love with another woman; Jane Seymour. Anne did not like this and she told Henry this but he didn't care."

"_You told me, you always told me we should be truthful with each other. You said it was the definition of love!"_

"_Then here's the truth … You must shut your eyes and endure."_

Freya shook her head slightly as she tried to get the words out of her mind.

"When Anne lost their son Henry blamed Anne of not being able to give him a son because she was witch."

"How did she loose their son? Did he run away and they couldn't find him?" Asked Lyanna.

"No, you know that before babies are born they are in their mum's bellies?" She got a nod in reply. "Anne's son died in her belly before he was born." Freya explained.

"Henry did not want to be married to Anne any longer so he said that she was a witch and gave the order to have her killed." Freya never mentioned the other accusations. "In the end Henry was married six times. After Henry died his son Edward became king but he died and Mary took his place as Queen of England and after her Elizabeth became queen."

"I can't believe you convinced me to tell me that story to you again," Freya said as she gazed up at the Royal Windsor Wheel in the distance.

"Did he regret it?"

Freya tore her eyes away from the wheel to meet Lyanna's. "Did he regret what?"

"Killing her?"

Freya shrugged as she stood up holding out a hand for Lyanna to take. "No."

It had began to rain by the time they left the Alexandndra Gardens and by now it was pouring down soaking both Freya and Lyanna. As if to make matters worse Lyanna became grouchy of tiredness which resulted in Freya scooping her up in her arms. Luckily for Freya Lyanna was a fairly small child and not too heavy. Cursing herself for not remembering to bring a umbrella Freya hurried across a street and set of in the direction of her aunt's restaurant. By the time she reached the restaurant she didn't notice the man coming out of it step out in front of her. Before she could stop it she had ran straight into the person's hard chest which caused her to fall to wet pavement with Lyanna still in her arms who up till then had been sleeping. She didn't bother to listen to the man's apologies instead she hurried inside closing the door with a bang.

* * *

><p><strong>Jane Seymour Queen of King Henry VIII <strong>

– 1537 –

She didn't know why she was back there staring at the offending words below her. It was as if she was drawn back to this place, a punishment for all those years she'd stayed away. Maybe it was because she wanted to assure herself that he was down there which was stupid because he wasn't, not any more. Out of pure spite she stepped on the plaque, she knew it was immature and had it been anyone else grave she would never have stepped on it. She scraped the heel of her shoe against the plaque one last time before she stepped off of it and resumed her glaring.

"That was mature."

Her back went rigid at the sound of his voice. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself as she turned around slowly to face him, not letting her fear show. He was wearing a casual attire; jeans and a blue jumper covered with a black jacket. To an outsider he'd appear to one of the crowd but the way he held himself showed authority way beyond his years. Her eyes found their way to his curly hair that was the exact colour of the hair she'd once had which unnerved her, why had he gotten her hair?

"Here to see your _wife_?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them but she didn't mind when she saw the reaction they had.

His eyes flashed and he clenched his jaw. "No." She frowned, then why was he there? "Besides she's not down there any longer."

Freya's lip twitched he had unconsciously given her some of the information she wanted. He scowled at her as he realised it as well.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

Freya ignored his question and let her eyes return to the plaque. Was she back then? A scowl etched itself onto her face at the thought of that whore being back, living among them. She knew why he was here. He wanted to know how much she knew just as she wanted to know how much he knew. It was obvious neither of them were willing to give out their piece information and she saw no point in staying there.

"I was just leaving," she answered him as she passed.

"Anne!"

She froze at the mention of her old name. Why did he have to call her by it? It brought back memorise she would rather suppress.

"What Henry?"

She ignored the curious glances passer byes threw at them as they heard their names. Of course they'd react to hearing the names since they were there to see Henry's grave.

"We need to talk." She laughed coldly at him before she turned around and left.

He felt his temper flare at her disobedient, she was such a pain. At first he had decided to wait her out; have her come to him but she didn't. He couldn't deny that she wasn't good at this game. She'd always been able to lure him in and it was an advantage she knew how to use. He'd been watching her for days and he'd noticed that he wasn't the only one. He didn't know who they were but they were there always lurking in the shadows. They hadn't tried to make any contact with her except for that time when she left the Alexandndra Gardens. By then he did not have the patience to wait for her to come to him. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.

"Are you aware you're being watched?" He asked as he caught up with her, by the way her shoulders stiffened he knew she wasn't.

He saw her eyes flash with fear before they became blank as she gave him a cold glare.

"By whom?" She asked evenly. "You?"

She stood her ground as he took a step closer to her. "There are others as well."

She studied him with those dark eyes of hers before she gave him a cruel smile. "You want to know how much I know." The glee in her eyes was taunting him. "That's why you've been following me."

"Don't tell me you're not curious about how much I know," he shot back at her.

She let out a cold laugh. "Oh, Henry you amuse me," she said as she took a small step closer to him causing their shoes to touch. "I don't need to ask you to know how much you know." She whispered.

He clenched his fist at his side and gritted his teeth. "I doubt that," he told her, "because if you did you would have noticed that you were being followed."

She raised an eyebrow at him, and once again he was stunned by how much she resembled Elizabeth but the way she moved, spoke and carried herself was all Anne. Her dark eyes studied him for a moment, seeming to search for something.

"What do you want?"

He smirked. "Information."

"Why should I give it to you?" She asked in defiance. "You have no power over me, not any more." She leaned in closer, her breath fanning his face. "You're no one."

"I was your husband, to you I was ever a good, a gentle and sovereign lord," he shot back at her.

She didn't let it show how much of an effect the quote of her own words had on her. "You had plenty of wives," she reminded him, "all whom you apparently loved more than me. Why don't you run along to one of them and see if they can give you what you need?"

His green eyes sparkled as he gave her a crooked smirk and she inwardly cursed herself for letting it slip that she did not know which of his wives other than herself was back.

"Is that jealousy I hear?" He mocked. "Of course I favour all of them above you after what you did."

She clenched her teeth in anger as she pushed some of her red hair out of her angry eyes. "What exactly did I do to you?"

"You know full and well what you did." He hissed at her. "You used me for your own game. The accusations against you-"

"Were false! I was innocent." She insisted.

A memory began to play on his mind … or was it a dream?

"_But from time to time she reminds me of you … and what you did to me."_

_Despite the resentment he felt against her his eyes took her in hungrily. She looked the same as she had all those years ago as if time had stopped around her which he supposed it had when she'd lost her head._

"_I did nothing to you," she insisted as she took several steps forward, "I was innocent. All the accusations against me were false," she told him in a hard voice. When he refused to look at her he heard her whispered in a much more gentle tone; "I thought you knew."_

_He tried to block her words out, he didn't want to hear them but she did not spare him instead she continued on._

"_Poor Katherine Howard, she lies in the cold ground next to me. Poor child. It was not her fault either, but we were like two moths drawn to the flame … and burned."_

_Memories of Katherine and Anne were flashing before his eyes at such speed he felt the need to sit down but he remained standing, refusing to meet her eyes. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a smirk grace her lips as she turned around. Despair filled his body and willed him to turn around._

"_Anne, please don't!" It was too late … she was gone. _

He was back in the present again but those dark eyes remained. He watched as Anne took a step away from him, her lip curling in disgust. He knew that something was coming and he was grateful that they were alone, outside in a secluded spot.

"You were the one that should have had your head cut off. If anything the accusations you accused me of were accusations of your own actions and not mine."

"No," he snarled at her, "I did nothing wrong, I had all the rights."

"_You must shut your eyes and endure."_

"That may be so," she said. "but what of the accusations? Did you have any right to accuse me of them?" She asked angrily. When the only answer she got was a cold stare she let out a sound of pure frustration.

"Seduced by witchcraft!" she spat at him, her eyes ablaze with hatred. "I could not bear any male children?" She shook her head at him in disgust as her long red hair -so much like the daughter's she once had- whipped around her shoulders. "You did that. Not me, never me! Did you think I wouldn't be emotional distressed by knowing that my husband was whoring around? I lost those children because of you and your actions."

Her brown eyes settled on his unmoving form; she took in the strong handsome features, his green eyes and ironically the dark hair -the same colour she'd once had- the fates had given him. She had loved this man once, loved him with her whole heart but now she hated him with a burning fire. Yes she knew that she had been no saint but she had never gone as far as him and she'd learned from her previous mistakes.

The number one rule: Don't trust Henry.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the places but the plot is mine, except for the memories from the show Tudors.**

"You were no better than me," he told her. "You wanted to kill both Catherine and Mary. You wanted to kill an innocent child. Don't play the victim."

She wanted to scream at him that she had been the victim. The victim of her father's sinister actions, the victim of his disastrous love. She took a deep breath, she would not give him the satisfaction of riling her up more than he already have.

"What about Katharine Howard?" she asked. By the way his eyes flashed she knew that she'd gotten to him. "She was a child and _you_ killed her. You were and still are such a hypocrite. There is no wonder Elizabeth never married after she saw what your wives had to endure."

A cold smile graced his lips as he towered over her. "Don't pretend that you knew her because you didn't."

The fist came out of nowhere, hitting him square in the jaw. His eyes portrayed the shock he was feeling while hers showed the anger and hatred.

"Whose fault was it that I did not know my own daughter? You ripped her from me! You bastardize her and yet she grew up to become your heir. Don't you dare pretend to have had any claim of her," all of this was said in an angry hiss. She could not believe he dared to say that!

"Don't accuse me of not loving my daughter," he warned her as he rubbed his jaw. "Why do you think I was at her tomb if I did not care for her?"

"Oh I don't know," said Freya while waving her hand in a nonchalant way, "maybe because you're proud of her now but you weren't back then. Remember this; I was."

This time Freya stood her ground. She refused to be the one to walk away. He glared at her before he muttered something incomprehensible and turned around, leaving her alone but not before he had said one last thing: "This is not over." She didn't expect it to be.

* * *

><p>"This is not working!"<p>

"We have to act!"

"Silence!"

"They're quarrelling-"

"SIELENCE!" The voice boomed through out the room making its occupants shut their mouths firmly. "You lot are like a bunch of cackling hens," said Mr Mills in an exasperated voice. "It is to be expected of them to fight-"

"But not for her to hit him!"

Mr Mills eyes glinted with amusement, she still had a rebel side to her then. He had an urge to point out that a smack to the face was just what Henry needed but he didn't.

"Aren't you planning to do something about this?" A chuckle escaped from Mr Mills lips before he could stop it.

"What do you suggest I do? I think they're working things out fine on their own. I don't know if you have noticed but it seems as if they can't stay away from each other quarrelling or not."

There were low murmurers of agreement echoing around the room but his words didn't not seem to satisfy them.

"We are wasting time," said a young woman, stepping forward.

Mr Mills regarded her with his light brown, almost hazel eyes. "What do you suppose we do then Miss Lynch?" he asked.

The woman in question smiled causing her blue eyes to glimmer. "Bring them together," was her simple reply as she pushed some of her dark brown hair behind her ear.

"Ah," said Mr Mills, "but they seem to be doing that fine on their own."

She shook her head at him. "They're taking too long."

* * *

><p>"So this is the plan," said Violet through a mouthful of cheetos.<p>

Freya raised an eyebrow at her from her end of the couch. "We have a plan?"

Violet nodded eagerly. "Oh, yeah."

Freya couldn't stop the grin even though Violet's plans often ended in chaos she secretly liked them … well mostly.

"What is the plan?"

"We're going out!" Violet declared sitting up straighter and tossing the empty cheetos bag on the floor.

Freya shook her head. "Oh, hell no." She was not in the mood for going out. In fact she wanted to stay planted on the couch trying to not think about _him_ and what he had said.

"Seriously Fey!" Violet exclaimed standing up. "When was the last time you had some smooch?" Freya shrugged, a frown forming between her eyebrows. "See you don't even remember!"

Freya wasn't sure how many drinks she had had but it was one too many. Not that it bothered her she wanted to forget all her troubles for once and be a normal eighteen year old. It was exhausting to have the knowledge of her past life and the horrendous events that had occurred- It seemed as if liquor was her haven of escape. The image of death and fear was pushed far back in her mind, far back enough for her to lock it away at the moment and live in the oblivious.

She was currently in the arms of a handsome blond. Her arms were wound around his neck and they were grinding against each other in tact with the music. She felt his lips slide along her shoulder and up her neck pausing here and there to drop kisses against her skin. Her eyes were hooded with lust as she met his dark brown ones before their lips met. She groaned into the kiss as he slid his tongue against her lower lip, she eagerly granted him access and his hands moved from her back to her bum; pulling her flush against him. Before Freya had time to comprehend what was happening she was ripped out from the guy's arms. She was hauled along the dance floor to a back door which led out into a dark and dank alley.

"What the-" she began but was cut off when a hand clasped over her mouth.

She saw him smile wickedly at her. "Told you we weren't done yet," he whispered against her ear as he leaned closer.

Freya shuddered and tried to remove herself from his grasp. Her moments were sluggish and she found herself pressed against the concrete wall of the building in no time. He was twirling a piece of her hair around his finger as he leered down at her with menace in his eyes. If she'd been sober she would have lashed out at him and screamed bloody murder but she wasn't capable of moving.

_She flinched and looked away as his fist made contact with the man's face causing a scream of terror and pain to erupt from the man. _

"_The Queen! I do not want any of her goodbyes!"_

_Her eyes returned to the King as she watched him beat the man relentlessly, yelling furiously. More shouts of pain echoed around the room. Anne removed her eyes again from the two men. She had no desire to see someone be so heavily beaten. _

"What do you want?" she managed to choke out.

"Answers," he growled, "real answers."

Her mind was hazy and she had a hard time to formulate the sentences she wanted. "What are … are you following me?"

He shook his head. "Nah, just taking up my opportunity," this was said somewhat playful but his demeanour quickly changed just like it had that night so many years ago. "How much do you know?"

Freya blinked at him. "W-what? I don't understand."

He let out an annoyed sound, clearly frustrated with her lack of response. "_Fine_, I'll ask something a bit easier; What is your name?"

Freya shook her head at him. She may not be sober but she wasn't dumb enough to give him her name. She didn't understand what he needed it for anyway. She glared up at him stubbornly, refusing to answer his question.

He sighed. "We can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way, either way you will be telling me your name. Which is it?" He took her silence as an answer and moved closer to her. "I know where you live and I know how precious that little girl is to you and I also happen to know where she lives," he hissed in her ear. "I'm going to ask you one last time, what is your name?"

Fury was building up inside Freya, he would threaten a child? Why would he needed to know her name if he already knew where she lived, worked and who she was close to? Surely he would be able to find out what her name was without asking her? Power. He needed to feel powerful.

"Freya," she ground out.

He raised a dark eyebrow at her. "What no last name?"

"Marlowe."

She felt rather than saw him smirk. "Now, how much do you know?"

Freya looked past his shoulder at a dustbin in the other side of the ally. Her head was spinning and she felt a sudden fatigue come over her causing her to slump against the building. He had been following her and had waited for the opportunity when she would let her guard down only to attack. It was a new low even for him. Her fingers twitched as she tried to reach for her mobile in her back pocket but his hand was covering hers in an instant, holding it firmly a few inches away from her phone.

"Who is back?" he asked.

Freya refused to look at him. She didn't want to admit that she had no clue who was back except for themselves. She knew that if she ignored him for much longer he would fill in the blanks and realise that, which was why she decided to play with him.

"Everyone who you ever did unjust," her eyes were full of malice as she thought of his victims coming for justice, "and they want your head."

"Do you take me for a fool?" his eyes flashed with anger. "Last chance who is bac-" he stopped mid-sentence and regarded with resemblance of amusement. "You don't know do you?"

When he got no answer he released her and backed a way, shaking his head as his lips formed into a smirk. "I don't understand why they are so fascinated with you," he muttered to himself.

Freya blinked at him. Everything was swirling in front of her and she had to strain herself to understand what he was saying. She vaguely heard him say something about someone being fascinated with her, she didn't understand why. He had said that she was being followed but she had assumed it was lies, was he referring to them?

"I'm leaving."

He didn't say anything as he spun around to face her, scrutinising her with those green eyes of his. Freya felt much more sober than she had seconds ago and she took a step forward, giving him a harsh glare.

"I know you don't feel any remorse for what you do," anger was evident in her voice as she clenched her hands, "but don't ever think about threatening my cousin. You may be a child-murderer but you are not taking her," _from me. _The words were there but she refrained from saying them aloud.

"I'm a murderer?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Freya. "You murdered thousands of people!"

"Who do you think I did that for?" he asked angrily.

Freya refused to answer. She knew what he wanted to hear from her but she refused to give him that victory of satisfaction. She also felt a great deal of shame concerning her answer, though her reply would only be a small part of something much larger.

"You!" There it was the horrible truth. "It was all because of you, a fucking liar and a whore!" He glared at her, his chest heaving heavily as he tried to control his anger. "I tore my country apart for you."

"What about after my execution?" Freya asked. "How were those deaths because of me?"

"Those deaths would never have happened if the mess you created had never been made," he told her harshly.

Freya's cheeks flushed and her brown eyes turned a shade darker at his words. "I'm sorry my love for you was the reason of such horrendous wrongdoings. I can assure you that there will never be a cause for history to repeat itself."

Their eyes met and there was an understanding between them but still he asked. "Why is that?"

The answer was simple for Freya to say but not for Anne. The part of her soul that belonged to Anne and would always only belong to Anne seemed to scream in protest. Despite all Henry had done to her she still loved him but it didn't mean she would forgive him but she wasn't capable of saying she wouldn't or couldn't love him again. Freya knew that this was a part of her; she was Anne, they were not two persons sharing a past. But the part of Freya that was the reason she came back for a second turn in life knew that her lesson was not to make the same mistakes as before and to learn.

"Because I would never be capable to love you." The answer wasn't completely truthful but it wasn't a lie either.

Those words ignited a war of her feelings clashing against each other. She did not have a moment of peace afterwards, her thoughts were tormented of memories both good and bad. There wasn't a day she would not be reminded of the love she had felt for him but then it was as if her subconscious had to remind her of all the terrors; George, Mark, Elizabeth, the scaffold, Jane, his cruelty. One minute she would long for the man who would enfold her with his love and the next hatred would course through her at the reminder of what he had done. Despite of all of her feelings she found herself drawn to places of her past.

The first time she visited Hever Castle she could barley handle all of the memories. She'd had to lock herself away in a bathroom to not let any one see her tears after she had entered George's bedroom. At times like those she felt nothing but hatred for Henry. He had murdered her brother.

* * *

><p>It was a rainy day when they approached her for the first time. She had been suspecting that someone was trailing her earlier when she walked around Hever. The rain was pouring down on her and she had been foolish enough to leave her raincoat behind in the apartment. She was not having the best of days, you could say and it didn't get any better when she had a sneaking suspicion that she was being followed. At first she had not planned to stop when they called out for her to wait but then they opened their mouth again, shouting a name that wasn't hers any more.<p>

"I'm sorry," she said as she turned around, her back was rigid, "but what did you call me?"

The woman smiled but it wasn't necessarily a welcoming smile. "Don't even bother with me," said the woman.

Freya could tell that she was young not above thirty but definitely a few years older than Freya herself. She was tall and had a slender body but not as slender as Freya's. Her hair was brown and fell in tangled ringlets, framing her face. It was obvious this woman knew something about Freya's previously life. There was also a possibility that they had known each other.

"Who are you?"

The woman frowned and her wide brown eyes flashed with momentarily concern but it was gone as quickly as it had come. "How much of your previous life do you remember?" she asked.

Freya didn't know what to think of her. Did she believe that Freya would tell her what she knew? Well she would have to think again.

"You know what? You can run back to Henry and tell him and his minions that you don't scare me."

The woman looked baffled. "You think I work for _him_? God no!"

Freya felt her irritation grow she didn't understand any of this. "Then who do you work for?"

The woman's eyes took in their surroundings before she stepped closer to Freya. "I work for a secret society which is conspiring against Henry."

Freya didn't know what to believe. How many were there out there that had lived in the Tudors era, and why would they be plotting against Henry?

"I don't understand."

"Of course not," said the woman nodding. "This must all be a bit strange for you, isn't it?" She didn't wait for answer. "We are not supporters of Henry."

Freya took a step away from the woman. "Then you must be supporters of Mary," she stated. If you weren't a supporter of Henry then you supported Mary and Catherine.

"For god's sake!" The woman exclaimed "Do you think so little of yourself? You have supporters, you changed England, you birthed one of our greatest Queens."

"That was hundred of years ago." Freya pointed out. "What do you want with me now?"

"We need your help," said the woman.

"With what?"

"To take Henry down."

**Yes I know it is short but I had a massive writer's block. I know where I want to go with this story and I have some chapters that will play out later already written but the problem is to get there. But I think we're finally on our way. **

**I will try to make the next chapter longer but I don't know when it will be posted since school is hectic and I have a three month (soon to be four) German shorthaired pointer taking up most of my spare time. **


	7. Chapter 7

**I would really appreciate if you reviewed this story if you add it to your favourites or follow it. Sometimes I get lazy and skip reviewing but I'm gonna stop doing that it doesn't take a long time to review and it really makes the writer happy. Thanks for reading!=)**

**Spoiler! So yes I'm will be spoiling a thing. There's going to be a dance scene. In Sweden a popular dance is bugg (it's similar to swing dancing) and I always thought it was known in many countries but turns out it's mostly popular in Sweden from what I've understood. I don't know if you dance bugg or not in the U.K, but I while be using this dance in the story and if you don't have it in the U.K then just ignore that I used it (I won't describe the dancing very much anyway).**

Freya didn't know what to say. She had wanted this … wanted the opportunity to make Henry suffer. But now when it was being handed to her she wasn't certain about it. Was she capable to do what these people were demanding of her?

"I …"

"You need time to consider it?" Freya nodded. It was all she could do, she felt numb.

"Can I borrow your phone?" asked the woman. "I want to give you my number in case you want to reach me," she explained when she saw Freya's questioning glance.

"Um … yes." Freya handed the woman her phone.

"Ring me whenever you want," said the woman before walking off leaving Freya staring at the name on the display.

_**Lily Ashling **_

It didn't take long for Freya to decide, it only took one look into Lyanna's innocent eyes. She paced back and forth as she waited for Lily to answer. She hadn't told anyone about Lily, not even Violet. She knew what Violet thought, it was written on her face, she wanted Freya to forget it all. But how could she? To Freya it was as if all the heartbreak had happened weeks ago and not hundreds of years. Violet did not understand.

"Hello?"

"Oh, hi! Is it Lily?" asked Freya.

"Yes. Who is this?"

"Oh I'm sorry, it's Freya," said Freya but when all she got in return was silence she got slightly nervous. "We met the other day. You told me to ring you if …"

"You mean you're Anne?"

Freya wanted to laugh, of course Lily didn't know her name which explained the hesitancy in her voice. "Yes."

It was if a someone had flicked on a switch and changed Lily's behaviour.

"I'm so glad to hear from you!" she exclaimed happily. "Does this mean you've decided? If you want we could meet up and I can take you to the others. They're really excited to meet you."

Freya found herself agreeing to meeting and not long after she was sitting in a café.

"What exactly do you mean when you say you intend to take Henry down?" asked Freya.

She'd been at the café with Lily for almost two hours now. Lily had explained to Freya that there were different groups or "Societies" as she liked to call them and they were all aiming for different goals.

"We're worried. From the information our spies has gathered Henry's supporters are conspiring something and it seems to involve you," explained Lily.

Freya frowned, why did it involve her? She was of no value and Henry … well she could not understand what Henry wanted.

"We don't want to do anything drastic unless it isn't necessary," said Lily. "Evan Akins grandfather is a very influential man."

"Evan?"

Lily raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes, that's his name now." She regarded Freya with curious eyes. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I had the impression that you've conversed on several occasions."

Freya snorted into the cup of hot chocolate she'd ordered. "I wouldn't go as far as to say we conversed per say."

"Really?" asked Lily as she leaned back into the chair. "Would argue be a more appropriate word?"

Freya smirked. "Yes."

"The bottom line is," said Lily, leaning forward, resting her elbows on the table, "we need your help. For some reason he's attracted to you." She raised her hand in a silencing gesture when she saw that Freya was about to protest. "What I mean is he can't seem to be able to stay away from you."

Freya didn't agree with this but nevertheless this conversation had sparked her interest. She felt a strong need to be able to talk to someone who understood what she was going through and therefore she asked; "What would you have me do?"

"Well first I would have you meet the others," said Lily standing up.

* * *

><p>It was a bright room with high ceiling and large windows which let in beams of light. The walls were covered in beautiful pastel coloured blossoms and trees. If you looked close enough you could even see people amongst the trees. The room's beauty was lost on Freya whose eyes were gazing at its occupants. It must have been at least twenty of them. Their ages varied and they came from different cultures but one thing united them; their past.<p>

"Welcome!" said an elegant woman with an Irish accent, stepping forward.

She had golden hair which was swept up into a loose bun on her head. She was clad in a peach coloured flapper styled dress which only enchanted her beauty more but there was one thing that caught Freya off guard. When she had first laid eyes on the woman she'd assumed she was a few years older than herself but now as she stood in front of Freya she saw that this was not a woman but a girl. She could possibly be no older than fourteen.

The girl smiled, her blue eyes shining with amusement. "Don't let my age deceive you." There was something about the way she spoke that held knowledge beyond her years.

Freya couldn't help herself; "Who are you?"

The girl frowned. "Surely you remember?" she said.

Freya shook her head. "What should I remember?"

The girl turned her attention to Lily. "I thought you said she remembered."

Lily who had kept herself in the background stepped forward. "She does but not all it seems."

"This is troubling." There were murmurs of agreement echoed through the room.

Freya felt herself become slightly irritated. They wanted to see her and now when they were they were speaking in riddles.

"What is troubling?"

"What do you remember?" asked the girl, returning her attention to Freya.

"What do you mean?" Freya was confused. "I remember everything or most of it."

Lily walked up to Freya and took hold of her hands. "Yes," she said and for a brief moment Freya felt nostalgia wash over her, "but you don't remember who we were."

Freya frowned. "Am I supposed to?" Was she really supposed to know who they had been? They looked nothing like those whom she had known.

"Well … yes," said Lily. "Or most of us at least. We remember you."

"You don't look like anyone I used to know," explained Freya.

The girl who still had not revealed her name gave Freya a concerned smile. "It should be enough to touch or see us."

"She knew who _he_ was," said Lily.

"This is very odd." An elderly man stepped forward from the group of people. He gave Freya a small smile before he continued to speak. "It is rare for someone to not remember at least parts of their past lives when they encounter other people from that life."

"But I do remember!" Freya insisted. She flushed slightly when everyones eyes settled on her after her outburst. "What I mean is that I remember my life in France, George, my father, Mary, Henry and Elizabeth along with everything else."

The man nodded. "Yes, yes of course. I believe your subconscious is protecting you from something," he said sratching his chin in thought. "That is why you don't remember."

"It still doesn't make sense." Lily glanced at Freya with curious eyes. "Would she not protect herself more if she did not remember Henry?"

"That I do not know," answered the man.

"Look, I don't know why I don't remember you," said Freya glancing at the people in the room, "but it is not fair of you not to let me know who you are."

"You are right," said the girl holding out her hand for Freya to take. "I'm Caiomhe Keane."

Freya shook her hand. "That not what I meant though."

"Joseph, Joseph Norton," said the man while grasping Freya's hand. "I think it would be wise of us not to tell you who we were yet," he explained when he saw the annoyance in Freya's eyes. "You are protecting yourself for a reason and it would be best if you found out why by yourself and I believe that if we reveal ourselves to you it might cause more damage than good."

Caiomhe exchanged a glance with Joseph and Lily. "Yes," she said, "I believe it is for the best … for now at least."

"How do you expect me to trust you when you won't trust me?" asked Freya.

Caiomhe shook her head. "No. That's not it all, of course we trust you!" she assured. "But we also want what is best for you."

This was simply not good enough for Freya. The may all look kind but there could be other motives lurking underneath the surface of their kind façades. "That's not enough for me."

It looked as if Joseph was about to protested but Freya continued before he had a chance to. "You need to give me a reason to trust you otherwise this," she said gesturing between herself and the other people in the room, "won't work."

Arguments flew around the room about what they were supposed to do but finally Lily let out a frustrated noise. "Fine!" she exclaimed.

She ignored the subtle shake of Jospeh's head and walked up to Freya. "If I tell you who I am you will have to settle with it being enough for now," she said. "You need to figure out the rest on your own."

"Fine," replied Freya.

Lily took Freya's hands in her own as she gazed into her eyes. It seemed to Freya as if she was searching for something. "I was your sister."

Freya did not get any visions as she had with Henry but the nagging feeling that she had known Lily remained. And those eyes ... they were the shame shade as her sister's had been. Guilt settled inside Freya's chest, she had banished this woman. She had been unnecessarily cruel to her. She had cast her away, and for what? To appease her father and husband both whom had treated her with cruelty while this woman standing before her had always been so kind to her.

"Mary … I am so sorry!"

The woman before her shook her head as tears trickled down her cheeks. "Don't be sister, it was not your fault."

Freya shook her head and felt tears well in her eyes. "No, no it was. I should never have sent you away." She held Lily's hands to her chest trying to convey her remorse. "I am so, so sorry."

Lily pulled Freya into a tight embrace. "There is no need for you to apologise," she assured, "I forgave you a long time ago."

"Do you trust us at least a bit now?" asked a smiling Caiomhe.

Freya broke away from Lily only to find that the others were regarding them with smiles on their faces. Even though she was still sceptic about some things she felt more reassured. "Yes."

"Great!" It was as is some of the youthfulness which Caiomhe should posses slipped into her at Freya's answer. "Does this mean you will help us?"

The smile Freya had been wearing faltered slightly. "It depends," she said with uncertainty. "What do you want me to do?"

Caiomhe took a seat at the large round table in the middle of the room and gestured at Freya to do the same. Soon everyone else who hadn't already been seated were as well.

"We know that this is asking much of you," she began, "but we want you to work your way into Evan's … Henry's life."

Freya stared at her in disbelief. "You must be joking."

Joseph who was seated on Caiomhe's left chuckled. "Quite on the contrary actually. We want you to wrap him around your finger."

Freya's eyes flashed with anger. "I assume you are familiar with my history and if so you would do well to remember why my life ended the way it did."

A young man with messy ginger hair and black glasses cleared his throat. "That's the point," he said. "You managed to string him along before why not again?" His cheeks flushed slightly as he stared into Freya's angry eyes. "Uhm … my name is Hayden," he told her and it seemed to Freya that he thought she would let his insult slip if he gave her his name.

"Well Hayden, last time I managed to 'sting him along' I also ended up with my head cut off." They were all mad if they thought Freya would put herself through that again.

Caiomhe put a reassuring hand on Freya's. "That's not what Hayden meant." She gave him a harsh glare which he squirmed uncomfortably under. Had Freya not been angry she would have thought it funny to see a grown man in his twenties squirm underneath the glare of a girl.

"Then what did you mean?"

"We just want you to get close to him. Get him to open up to you," said Caiomhe.

Freya laughed but it wasn't an amused laugh. "I think you have me confused with someone else. He won't trust me … he hates me."

"Believe me, I don't like this," Lily told her, "but there is something about you that seems to lure him in. He has been following you for weeks now."

The sentence hung in the air and Freya suddenly felt very exhausted, she did not want to deal with this. Then again if she did do what they asked of her there might be a bigger chance that Lyanna would be protected, which was the reason she was there to begin with.

"If I do this," she began, "will you make sure my family and friends are protected? Especially my cousin Lyanna?" She needed reassurance it was the only way they would get her to agree.

"I promise you that we will try or best to make sure no harm will come to your family or friends," said Caiomhe.

"One more thing," said Freya looking at the expecting faces around her. "If I feel like it is too much or that I can't continue you will respect that. Do we have an agreement?"

There were some disputes between the group as they considered her conditions but in the end they agreed.

"What will you have me do?" asked Freya.

"We will slowly but surely introduce you into his world," smiled Joseph.

* * *

><p>"Good morning!" An old woman greeted.<p>

Freya gave her a strained smile as she walked up to the desk the woman was sitting at. "Good morning."

The woman regarded her with warm eyes. "How can I help you, Miss?"

"I heard you were short of staff, and were looking for someone to jump in?" This was never going to work, thought Freya. It was a mad plan and even if it worked Henry … Evan would see right through it.

"Yes, yes that is correct," said the woman. "Are you interested?"

Freya ignored her own feelings and put on an excited smile. "Yes, I am."

* * *

><p>She had to audition but it wasn't something she was worried about. Despite the fact that she had not done it in years it came naturally, it was easy, almost as breathing.<p>

Her own hair were hidden underneath a curly, brown chin-length wig. A gorgeous silvery white headpiece with faux crystals was fastened into the wig. It consisted of smaller pieces which were shaped after a new moon, when put together they created beautiful swirls in different directions, giving the illusion of an exquisite headpiece. She was clad in an ivory flapper dress which had white beads embroidered on it, creating a swirling pattern.

"This is such a stupid idea," Freya said into her mobile phone.

"Why?" asked Caiomhe. "Personally I love the whole twenties style theme. I'm sure you look gorgeous."

"That's not what I meant and you know it." Freya walked out of her place in the line of girls all dressed like her. She gave the choreographer a smile when she saw his disapproving look and held up her hand. 'Five seconds.' She mouthed to him.

"He will never fall for this," Freya continued to say as she walked to a secluded corner of the room.

"Why not?"

"Because he isn't daft. This is exactly how we met and he won't be lured so easily."

Caiomhe sighed. "Don't you see Freya? This is how he fell for you … all those memories will come back and he won't be able to stay away and that's when you get your chance."

"You don't understand!" Freya insisted. "You don't know him. He will not just stand by and play along." Freya glanced over to her choreographer who was waving his arms impatiently at her.

"What makes you think I don't know him?"

Freya rolled her eyes. "Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that you won't tell me who you are."

"Freya …"

"Look, I have to go," Freya said before ending the call.

When she got back into line the choreographer walked up to her and gave her an angry glare.

"I don't know if you understand how lucky you are to preform at Charles Mills annual midsummer party, but be assured it is an honour and you'd do best not to screw it up," he hissed at her before he walked away.

"Lucky me," Freya muttered to herself.

"Okay, girls it's showtime!" exclaimed a bubbly young woman as she escorted them to a large ballroom.

As she stood with her hand on her hip and stomped on the place Freya thought that this sort of dance would have been considered a bit too risqué to preform at an event such as this. But the men, especially the older seemed to love when they wiggled their hips at them and flapped their hands and kicked their legs into the air. It wasn't a hard routine to learn it was more about show than dance so Freya found herself moving with ease on the stage. Her brown eyes searched for him but she did not find him, was it possible he wasn't there? They were greeted with loud applauds as the dance ended with them leaning forward and blowing kisses to the audience.

"You did great!" The woman who had led them into the room said as they walked off of the stage. "Now go mingle."

It was another part of the job, to mingle. They were there to entertain and look pretty for the guests. Freya put on a smile as she walked around and small talked with various influential people.

"You dance beautifully," complimented an old man with a grey beard.

Freya smiled. "Thank you."

"Have you danced before?" he asked, his hazel eyes studying her. "You move with such grace."

Freya gave a small smile. "No, I haven't, Mr?"

"Charels Mills," he said holding out his hand.

So this was Evan's grandfather? Freya thought as she shook it. "It's nice to meet you, Mr Mills. I'm Freya." She didn't give him her last name and he did not inquire for it but she asumed if he really wanted to know, he could.

"You too," he said smiling at her. "Are you certain you have not danced before?"

He was fishing for information, that much was clear. Not that Freya was bothered it didn't matter if he knew if she had danced or not before.

"Yes, positive," she said. "I only just started."

"Well then, you are very talented my girl!" he told before leaving her for the other guests.

Freya continued to walk through the elegant ballroom. The golden walls were covered in various paintings and large tables with food were scattered through the room which drew the attention of many guests. Few people were on the dance floor, most of them were still seated or walking around the room talking. Her eyes moved across the room, searching. Despite the many faces she had seen she had still not seen _his._ Where was he? They had been so sure that he would be there, but so far he was nowhere to be seen.

"Looking for someone?" She felt a warm breath on her neck, tickling her skin.

She spun around quickly causing her dress to fly out around her knees. Green eyes regarded her with a bored interest.

"Hello, Evan," she said calmly.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Took you long enough."

"Did it?" asked Freya as she moved in a circle around him.

He chuckled at her as he grabbed a piece of hair her from her wig. He was handsome, there was no denying that. With his athletic body, green eyes and that dark hair which was a tad longer at his neck and curled softly against it he looked nothing like the Henry she had know, she supposed he must have been happy about that.

"Nice hair colour," he told her as he let go of the piece which bounced back into place. "It reminds me of someone I used to know."

"Really? This person must have been special if he or she left such an impression." Freya's eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Well aren't you a clever one," said Evan, not amused at all by Freya's little joke.

Freya feigned shock. "Have I upset you?"

Evan laughed loudly, drawing attention from others. "Of course not. It takes more than a little joke to upset someone like me."

Freya smiled and stepped closer. "But of course," she whispered into his ear.

"Ah, Evan there you are!" Mr Mills walked up to them, smiling broadly at them. "I see you have met Freya." He regarded the two of them with interest. "Isn't she a lovely young lady?"

Evan's shoulder stiffened. "Yes, she's something special."

"What did you think of her dancing?" asked Mr Mills. "Does she not move with grace?"

Evan gave his grandfather a wicked smile. "It is the only thing she does with grace," he said. "She's quite the vixen when it comes to other … things."

Freya stared at Evan aghast as Mr Mills accompany chuckled, eyeing her up and down. Some of the younger men raised their eyebrows at her suggestively but she dismissed them.

"Evan, why don't you dance with Freya," said Mr Mills in a stern voice.

"Gladly." He grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor.

Freya glared at him as he placed both of her hands in his. "Was that really necessary?" she asked angrily.

Evan ignored her and instead asked: "Have you ever danced Swedish bugg?"

"I've heard of it," Freya muttered as a speedy song began playing.

"The man leads." He grinned at her as he took a step back pulling her along with him. "The woman," he leaned down letting his breath fan over her ear, "follows." He braced his arms and forced her to take a step back.

Soon she was moving in circles around him while he stomped on the place. He raised their arms and twisted them so they were standing back to back and before twisting their bodies again back to their previous position. He let go of her right hand as soon as they faced each other and had her twirl around him.

"Why are you here?" he asked as she passed him.

Freya glared at him, her cheeks were flushed from all the twirling and turns she had to do. "Earning money."

"Am I supposed to believe that?" he asked as he pulled her to him in a fast motion.

"Yes," said Freya as he let her go and she stepped around him, shaking her hips and moving her hands in tact with the music.

They came together once more and did one final turn before the song ended.

"Thank, God," Freya said silently. She did not feel like doing any more twirls.

A slow song began playing and more people joined them on the dance floor. Evan grabbed hold of her waist and pulled her to him, leaving Freya with no choice but to put her arms around his neck.

"So you didn't happen to know that you would be preforming at my grandfather's party?" He studied her with his emerald eyes.

Freya considered lying to him but decided not to. "Yes." His eyes didn't change since he had been expecting the answer.

"Why did you come?"

She gazed across the dance floor at the other smiling couples. Their lives seemed so simple, they had nothing to worry about except for the present. "Do you think Elizabeth is back?"

He didn't answer instead he stared straight ahead lost in his thoughts. Perhaps it was for the best she dreaded the answer, she wanted Elizabeth to have peace but then she also wanted to meet her. This brought up another fear of hers, what if Elizabeth was back, what then? Would she hate Freya? Would she resent her because of what others had told her about her harlot of mother?

"I don't know," he finally murmured to her.

She gazed up at him and their eyes locked. "I loved her," she told him.

Something in his eyes changed. "I know."

He may not like her and he may not believe her about many things, but one thing he had never doubted was that she did love her daughter. The daughter whom had been a walking reminder of Anne to Henry. The daughter who Henry had not been able to grow close to because of her likeness to her mother. His precious child who had become so much more than he could have ever dreamt of from a son. He supposed he should be thanking her for that gift, she had in the end given him what she had promised … an heir. As he stared down at her he couldn't help but feel as if he had been transported back in time. She looked so much like he remembered Anne at that moment with the brown hair and those eyes.

"I loved you."

"_I loved you! I loved you and I love you still."_

His hands tightened around Freya's waist. She saw his eyes close as he lost himself in a memory.

"_Please after everything we've been to each other … after everything we were! Please."_

"Enough!"

He released her and took a step away from her. His eyes were dark with anger as he glared at her furiously. "You are nothing but a whore."

She flinched, this was what she got for telling him she had loved him. He never appreciated her, never praised her for the good she did. All he did was drag her name through the mud.

"I don't know how or why," she began slowly, "but somehow I fell in love with you. I didn't mean for it to happen."

He didn't say anything, he only continued to glare at her. His hands were tight fists, shaking with anger.

"Believe me, it wasn't planned," she said with a humourless laugh. "My family wanted to gain more power and since Mary failed to catch your interest they used me." She was telling him what he had wanted to hear so many years ago but now it seemed like he was refusing to listen.

"I didn't want to. I didn't want you." There she had told him. "I wanted to have a husband, children and live what then would have been considered a normal life, but you wouldn't let me."

People were staring at them now as they had stopped moving but no one approached them and thankfully they did not seem to listen to what they were saying.

"Then I fell in love with you," her gaze locked with his but all she found there was anger. "Stupid, I know," she said waving her hand in the air. "Did you know Catherine warned me about you?" she asked. "She told me you would tire of me as of all the others. I was stupid not to listen to her warning, it could have saved me my head."

"Leave."

She smirked at him. "Oh but I can't," she said. "I'm working."

She turned and walked back into the sea of people scattered around the large room. She mingled a bit longer before she locked herself into a bathroom. Her hands were shaking as she leaned over the sink, taking in deep breaths.

She turned the tap on and splashed some cold water onto her face. With shaking fingers she dialled the number.

"Freya? How did it go?" asked an anxious Lily.

"I … I got underneath his skin."

There was some murmuring on the other end as Lily repeated the message to the others.

"Good job, Freya," said Lily after awhile. Her voice softened as she asked if Freya was okay.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," Freya lied as she stared into the mirror only to have a dishevelled face stare back at her.

"Do you want me to come and get you?"

Freya shook her head. "No, that's fine. I'll be heading home soon."

She supposed she should have felt lucky that Mr Mills lived in Windsor and it wasn't that far to her home, but she did not. It only meant that he was so much closer to her.

"OK, take care Freya."

"Bye."

She pulled the wig off and let her hair out of its braids. It cascaded down her back in loose curls she knew would disappear the moment she stepped out into the humid air. She unlocked the bathroom door and sneaked into the room they had used as a changing room earlier. She didn't care if there was still three hours left of her work, she needed to get out of there. She quickly changed out of the dress into a pair of comfortable jeans and a green jumper. She left the dress on a hanger and the wig on a bench by it, she was certain she wouldn't get paid when she left early so she didn't bother to tell anyone that she was leaving.

She followed the Thames on her way home, gazing at the dark water. She was almost home when her phone rang. Freya didn't look at the number before answering.

"Listen Lily, I just nee-"

"Lily? Who's Lily?"

"Violet?"

"What's up Fey?"

Freya felt a smile tug at her lips at the voice of her best friend. "Not much, you?"

"Oh, you know the usual," said Violet in a nonchalant voice. "Dad came home early and caught me with some random guy on the couch."

Freya winced. "How did that go?"

"Fabulous," said Violet. "I'm only banned from having 'friends' over and … well I have a curfew."

Freya laughed. "Vi, you're eighteen and have a curfew. Do you realise how ridiculous that sounds?"

"That's what I told him but he wouldn't listen. He just kept on about how I've been doing these destructive things ever since Tommy died."

He's right, was what Freya wanted to say but she didn't. Ever since Tommy's death Violet had decided she did not deserve to live since it had been her fault her little brother died. Which was why she lived as if everyday was her last because it might well just be. She put on a brave face in front of everyone but beneath the surface lurked something much darker and sometimes she could not hold it within her.

"Anyway," Violet's voice broke through Freya's musings. "What have you been up to?"

"Oh, you know working and stuff," Freya said shrugging as she entered the apartment.

"Right …"

Freya locked the door behind her and silently crept into her room so she would not disturb her mum's sleep.

"Have you seen you know, Henry?"

"What?" Freya stiffened how could Violet possibly know that Freya had seen him.

"It's just that he seem to bee popping up on different places around here," explained Violet.

Freya sighed as she flopped down on her bed. "Yes he has but I guess we'll have to grow used to it since apparently he lives in Windsor."

"What?!"

"Yup."

"How did you find out about that?"

"I might have done some snooping," Freya told her with a smug voice. She did not want to tell Violet about Lily and others yet.

"Well then I'm proud of you Fey."

Freya laughed. "Why thank you, I'm glad you approve."

After they hung up Freya found herself laying awake for hours staring at the celling, mulling over how the evening had gone. He had searched her out, which the others had expected. She had caught his attention and she had danced with him which had been more than expected, but what did that mean? For her it meant she was getting an opening, but what did he gain of it? She fell asleep thinking of what he had said about Elizabeth.


End file.
